


turn my blue heart to red

by Grigori_girl



Category: Open Heart (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-02-15 19:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grigori_girl/pseuds/Grigori_girl
Summary: A single kiss would never be enough to satisfy them, but pesky workplace ethics tend to get in the way of a very good thing.Luckily, Harper had an incredible poker face, and was completely willing to wait Ethan out.





	1. moon over miami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! This is my first choices fic (that I’ve gotten around to posting) and,,,,surprise, surprise, it’s smut. 
> 
> Anyway! This is also cross posted to tumblr under “moon over miami” and any future chapters will be posted here! 
> 
> Enjoy! ;)

The moon is bright and full above Miami, shining through the gauzy curtains and outlining the room in soft white. She can hear the ocean crashing against the shore, pretends that it can drown out the sound of Ethan’s too-loud breathing in the next room over that she’s sure she’s only imagining.

So, no. It’s safe to say one Dr. Harper Jackson didn’t sleep a wink that night, too preoccupied with the lingering heat beneath her skin and the fact that Ethan was just beyond that thin partition door. Was he in the same boat as her? Wide awake and trying not to think about how one kiss shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did? She shifts uncomfortably in the bed, presses her thighs together to _try_ and provide some friction, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. She stares at that paper-thin partition so hard she’s surprised it doesn’t shatter the glass, weighing her options.

It’d be wrong. So very, very wrong. But...it’s not like he’d _know_ , right? She was never one to be loud on her own anyway. Besides, he’s the reason she’s so embarrassingly horny right now, and, well, she’d be lying if she said the thought of getting caught wasn’t an incentive.

Harper casts a glance at the partition, ears straining in the silence, searching for a sign that Ethan was awake and somehow listening specifically for the sound of her hand slipping beneath the elastic of her shorts, the slide of skin on skin as she passes her fingers teasingly across her lips. She sighs through her nose, eyes fluttering shut as she remembers the heat of Ethan’s hands on her body, the way his fingers—long and soft and oh so talented—bunched her dress in his fist, pressed into the flesh of her ass like he owned it. Her own fingers dip into her wet heat, trailing up to swirl around the bundle of nerves at her apex. She rocks her hips against her hand, slips the other beneath her shirt to pinch at hardened nipples. It’s almost too easy for her imagination to fill in the blanks, to pretend that it was _his_ hand down her panties, that his weight was pressing her into the mattress while he _groans_ in her ear…

She freezes, breath caught in her throat as her eyes open and focus on that partition door. It was quiet before, but now it was like the morgue back at Edenbrook. Gooseflesh comes alive up the line of her spine, the sweat slicking her skin gone cold. Her imagination was good, but she knew the difference between what’s in her head and what’s _real_. Harper’s suddenly acutely aware of moisture between her thighs, the finger half-pressed against her clit. Was she going crazy, or did Ethan somehow know what she was doing? More than that, _did he like it?_

Only one way to find out.

She wets her lips with a tentative swipe of her tongue, shifts against the bed and kicks the covers back away from her legs, lets out a breathy sigh; loud enough that he could hear if he was listening for it, casual enough that it could be brushed off she was wrong and making a fool of herself. Her finger goes back to circling that button, careful not press directly. She wanted to tease this out, especially if Ethan was playing along. All her senses are narrowed down on that partition, the crash of waves fade to background noise, waiting for him to make his move and, _there_.

The rustle of fabric, like the sound of sweatpants sliding down hips, over thighs, a grunt and sigh of pleasure at cool air hitting hot, sensitive skin.

Harper listens for a moment longer, waits to see if he’ll give her more, but his half of the room seems conspicuously silent. She relents, hoping that she’s not out of her fucking mind as she drops her hand lower, slowly pushing a single digit into her tight, wet heat. She bites her lip, pushes her finger as deep as she can reach, curling upward in search of that spot that makes her toes curl. For a moment, she almost forgets herself, forgets that she and Ethan are playing this careful game. When she remembers, she keeps her eyes closed, thinking about him so close, his pants around his knees and his shaft in hand. She slips another finger in beside the first, spreads them to feel that faint burning pinch at the slight stretch. How big is he? Is he longer than he is thick? Or vise versa? Not that it matters, the thought of him filling her up so nicely, stretching her as he bottoms out, makes a moan rise in her throat unbidden, ringing out in the silence of the room.

She doesn’t freeze like before, too caught up in the pleasure coiling in her stomach, but she at least has the presence of mind to slow her ministrations, hazy eyes focusing on the partition. Did she go too far?

There’s a thump from the other side of the room, the distinct sound of fumbling footsteps. _Shit._ Too late now to pretend like nothing happened, like her boss didn’t just hear her moan while alone on her side of the room.

At least she had an incredible poker face to get her through the next rest of her life.

Harper watches as a shadow pauses in front of the door, backlighted by the moon. Slowly, the door slides open, just a few inches, just enough for Ethan to peek in and see her splayed on the bed as she was; legs akimbo with one hand shoved down her shorts and the other very obviously cupping a breast. Neither speak, staring at each other in the dark. She wants to beckon him closer, wants to welcome him between her thighs and have him bite at her bottom lip again, wants to be wrapped up in the heat of him, the warm musk of his cologne. Instead, when she pulls her hand from her cunt, her fingers glistening with her wet, she meets his eyes and opens her mouth, her tongue welcoming the digits with a diligent curl, the taste of herself raising the fever burning her from the inside out.

Even from across the room, she hears the breath leave him in a rush, watches as he stumbles back against the wall just inside the door, the opaque glass of it hiding his body from his sternum down. “ _Fuck.”_ His voice is husky with lust, labored like the strain of keeping his hands off her is physically taxing. Ethan’s gaze burns her, even across the oceans between them. She slides her fingers from her mouth, passes them around her navel once before dipping back beneath the elastic hugging her hips.

This time, she doesn’t bother teasing. Her fingers glide past her entrance and she strokes against that spot within her, rolls her hips to grind her clit against the heel of her hand. She sighs and gasps, moans softly only because Ethan’s there, watching her face while she brings herself to the brink. He treats her to half-muffled groans as he strokes himself, half-hidden behind the door so that she could only see the fluid movement of his arm. Harper drops the hand at her breast down to her clit, circles that bundle of nerves with a purpose. The angle of her wrist and hand isn’t ideal—in fact, the whole thing could be made much more comfortable if Ethan would come over and slot himself between her legs—but she doesn’t have the mind to care. Her gasps turn reedy and high, and it takes everything she has to keep from closing her eyes, from looking away from Ethan and the flush across his face, the way his shadow shifts as his hips thrust toward his fist unevenly.

She moans his name as she cums, shoulders pressed against the mattress as she rocks against her hand, and she watches as he comes undone. A stream of expletives fall past his lips as his body goes taut, the muscles of his stomach flexing.

For a moment, neither of them move, their panting breaths the only sound as reality slowly comes crashing back down. Harper slips her hand from shorts, watching Ethan from the corner of her eye as he hangs his head and disappears back into his side of the room. She sighs softly, her heart constricting painfully for a beat, before she rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom.

No, Harper Jackson didn’t sleep a wink that night.

But neither did Ethan Ramsey.


	2. some days i lie wide awake ‘til the sun hits my face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so are we all on the same page of getting our asses absolutely ate with the last chapter, or was it just me? 
> 
> anyway,,,let’s just go back to simpler times when Ethan just pined a bunch and The Kiss was their biggest problem

Harper’s up and out of bed before the sun has even risen, shuffling quietly around her side of the room in an obvious attempt not to disturb him. He’d be touched by her thoughtfulness any other time, if she hadn’t effectively kept him awake all night anyway. As if he’d been able to so much as blink without seeing her; the way she’d stared at him, brown eyes dark like a summer storm, red hair fanned across her pillow as she rolled her hips against her hand, the muscles in her thighs _trembling as she came…_

Ethan breathes a frustrated sigh, runs a hand through his hair as he tries to ignore the valiant twitch of his cock at the memory. He didn’t know how he was going to look her in the eye after that. Or if she would even _want_ to look at him, for that matter. It was entirely possible that what happened was little more than a mistake brought on by a little too much alcohol and a healthy dose of taboo encouragement.

No. It _was_ a mistake. Point blank. Thinking of it, of their kiss, as anything more was a recipe for disaster.

At least, that’s what he _wanted_ to say. The reality of the situation wasn’t nearly as cut-and-dry as he wishes it were. If it were, this would be little more than a case of lust, of physical desire, but Ethan Ramsey was nothing if not brutally honest—especially with himself—and he knew that wasn't the case. He wasn’t one prone to giving into simple lust, for starters, and plain old sex didn’t come with lingering glances and butterflies at the sound of her voice. He was well and truly fucked, that was certain, and he couldn’t decide if it made him feel at all better that she was apparently in the same boat.

A soft knock taps against the dividing door, the glass rattling gently. He tries to squash the fluttering excitement that wraps around his heart, surreptitiously straightening his clothes and pointedly refusing to acknowledge the sweatpants he’d all but ruined the night before, now peeking out of his suitcase accusingly. So wrapped up in his pursuit of looking put-together, he nearly forgets to scramble up off the couch and cross the room, hauling the door open with just a little too much force. He has to swallow back a grimace when Harper jumps, fist half-raised and poised to knock again. He carefully smooths his face into calm curiosity, tries not to think about how _no one_ should be able to make a plain white t-shirt and jeans look so damn good.

She flashes him a small smile, edged with a nervousness he’s rarely seen in her before, but it’s there and gone quick enough that he hardly believes it was there at all. “Uh, I was just checking that you’re up and getting ready.” She tucks a stray hair behind her ear, and it’s then that he realizes she has her hair tied up in a ponytail. It’s also then that he realizes he’s been too busy drowning in the deep brown of her eyes to realize how close they were, nearly chest-to-chest. Harper chuckles nervously as she takes a small step back, seeming to come to the same realization. “We have to check out soon if we want to catch our flight.”

“I’m the one who told you what time we needed to check out in the first place,” he says dryly, a small weight lifting off his chest as that familiar, playful spark ignites in her eyes.

She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks a hip, lips curling into a challenging smirk. “So that’s why I’m the one all packed and ready, and you haven’t even put in your contacts yet?”

Ethan blinks. “How’d you–?”

Harper grins victoriously, and Ethan would swear he’s never seen anything more beautiful. “Your eyes are dry, you keep squinting, and you won’t stop staring at me.” He very nearly chokes on his own tongue, and it’s a miracle he keeps a straight face. The heat that rises to his face, well...he can only _pray_ she doesn’t notice, but judging by the amused quirk of her brow, he’s not so lucky. “I’m a diagnostician, too, in case you forgot.” He hadn’t. He _couldn’t_. It was the only thing that had been keeping him from kissing her senseless for longer than he’d like to admit.

Still, he rewards her with a wry laugh as he turns away to fetch his contact case, listens to the retreating sound of her footfalls as she disappears back into her side of the room. The ensuing silence that falls over their room isn’t uncomfortable, and it’s only punctuated by the sound of them packing their respective bags.

“Hey,” she calls from across the suite, “everything here is going on Panacea’s tab, right?”

Ethan straightens from his crouch, ruined sweatpants like a lead weight in his hands. His voice remains steady as he calls back, “More or less. Other companies chip in, too. Why?”

Harper takes a long minute to reply, so he takes the opportunity to swipe a pillowcase out of the linen closet and unceremoniously shoves the pants into it, before burying them beneath the rest of his clothes. If he has to look at a physical reminder of last night again, he was sure he was going to lose it.

Of course, Harper chooses that exact moment to bustle in, a mischievous look on her face as she looks over the little living area with a critical eye. If the cum-stained sweatpants made him feel guilty, Harper made him feel downright depraved. She has a bag in her hand stamped with the Celestial’s spiraling logo, and he watches as she crosses the room to the desk in the corner and wipes her arm across the top of it, sending the complementary notepad and pens clattering into the bag.

She also digs through every drawer and closet, scooping up damn near everything not bolted down.

“What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Her face lights up as she finds a stash of packaged coffee. “Half of this stuff has to get thrown out even if we don’t use it. The other half…” She shrugs, turning back to him as she weighs the bulging bag in her hand. Her eyes flash in the lamplight, her smile just a little too self-satisfied. “Let those bastards pay for it.”

He stares at her long enough to make her sweat, watches the smile drop from her lips and her face begin to flush in embarrassment. Then, he smiles, feels proud despite himself. “Make sure to clear out the minibar. We gotta hit ‘em where it hurts.”

Harper’s grin returns. “What is this, amateur hour?” She scoffs, slings the bag over her shoulder as she goes back to the other half of the suite. “It’s the first thing I went after!”

—

It takes twenty minutes for the two of them to pack their bags as full of hotel paraphernalia as they could conceivably manage, and in that time, Ethan only thinks about the night before six times, which isn’t too bad, all that’s considered. Harper doesn’t bring it up at all, their dynamic hasn’t changed in the slightest—a miracle in and of itself—but he can tell she making an effort to keep it that way.

Still, he doesn’t begrudge the conspiratorial smiles she shoots his way as they ride the elevator down to the lobby, or the way she bumps her shoulder into his amid their companionable silence. Once in the lobby, he follows her to the front desk, chastising himself for staring at the inviting sway of her hips.

If he’d let himself, he could almost pretend that they were here _together_ , a weekend away from work just to relax, no red tape to get caught on his ribs and strangle his heart.

He comes to a stop at her side, watches her from the corner of his eye as she hands over their keycard and flashes the receptionist one of her pretty, winning smiles. Their conversation is little more than background noise as his eyes trace the strong line of her jaw, the glitter of the earrings that curl down the shell of her ear, the smattering of freckles that dot the warm brown skin of her neck before disappearing beneath the collar of her shirt.

Ethan comes back to himself just in time to catch the sly smile the receptionist sends his way.

“Well, we hope the beautiful couple had a lovely stay here at the Celestial!”

He’s denying it before his mind has a chance to catch up to the implication, to the assumption that _they look like a couple_ , but it doesn’t stop the way his stomach roils when she corrects the man just as fast, their voices tangling into a jumbled mess that hardly sounds anything like, “We’re _not_ together!”

Harper’s face darkens with her blush, and she makes a point of not looking at him. The receptionist apologizes, his own face heating in embarrassment, and he clicks around on his computer for a moment before saying sheepishly, “Oh! I’m so sorry, you’re the coup–, uh,  _pair_ , that had to share a room. I misread your profile.” He meets Ethan’s eyes but quickly looks to Harper, successfully cowed by whatever he saw in his face. “Again, I’m terribly sorry for the mix up.”

“You should be.” Ethan says coolly. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Harper makes a small sound of disbelief and discreetly digs her elbow into his ribs, shooting him an incredulous look before giving the receptionist an apologetic smile. “Don’t listen to him.” She says as he bats away the dagger she calls an elbow, but she ignores him all the same, even as he rubs the spot tenderly. “Hasn’t had his coffee yet, you know how people can be.”

He scoffs, offended that he could so easily be written off as _cranky._ He opens his mouth to reiterate that, no, he wasn’t having caffeine withdrawals and, yes, they should take more care to do their job right, but she sees the oncoming tirade for what it is and hurriedly loops her arm around his, hip-checking him to get him moving before he can make some poor hotel worker cry.

“Again, it’s totally fine, don’t even worry about it! We had a wonderful time, y’all have a good day bye!” She steers him away with a surprisingly strong grip on his arm, nearly causing the both of them to trip over their luggage, but she keeps moving with steely-eyed resolve. Once safely out of earshot, she turns that piercing gaze onto him, “I can’t believe you seriously were going to chew out that poor guy!”

He merely quirks a brow at her, half-tempted to jerk his arm out of her grasp. “Really? You can’t?”

Harper sighs, lets go of his arm (despite his silent disappointment) and pushes open the front door, holding it open with her hip as she rolls her suitcase after her. “Okay, you got me there.” She holds the door for him to follow after her, hangs back a second to let the people behind them go too before catching up with him at the curb, the street lights still on, the sun’s fingers just beginning to claw into the sky. “It’s not that big a deal though, _and_ it wasn’t even that guy’s fault.”

“Says you,” He scoffs, makes a point of cracking his back as they wait for their taxi. “That couch wasn’t as comfortable as it looked.”

“Hey,” She says, pointing an accusing finger at him, though her lips still pull into a smile. “You’re the one who made the decision to sleep on the couch. There was plenty of room in the bed.”

Her smile is gone as soon as she says it, and though they’re outside, it feels like all the air is gone. Quickly, they avoid each other’s gazes, though he still catches the way she rubs at her face in embarrassment from the corner of his eye.

So much for not mentioning it.

But even so...now he can’t help but consider what could’ve been. She was more than willing to let things progress once they got back to their room—if the fact that they got off to the thought of each other wasn’t enough proof of their desires—and if he was even the slightest bit less morally sound, he would’ve made a point of taking her all night, if she’d let him.

He feels that familiar burning coil of desire start searing in his gut, so he quickly squashes that train of thought, shifting on his feet uncomfortably.

But...he can’t help but to wonder what it would’ve been like to have those soft little sighs in his ear, to have felt the undoubtedly soft skin of her breasts in his hands, the strength in her thighs as they squeezed his hips and the feel of her cunt as she came around his fingers, tongue, _cock_.

Ethan clears his throat, trying his goddamn hardest to banish the image from his mind, mostly with a stream of insults topped off with a reminder that he’s, technically, her boss. To break the tension, he says, “So...did I hear you right earlier, or did you _really_ say ‘y’all’?”

Harper groans immediately, her previous embarrassment transitioning easily into a fresh, new brand of embarrassment. “It just slipped.” She grumbles. The taxi pulls up to the curb, and she all but runs to the trunk, hauling it open before the driver can even open his door.

He laughs as he follows her lead, squeezing his suitcase—which is decidedly _much_ larger than it had been when they arrived—next to hers. “What’s next? Am I gonna get a ‘yeehaw’ before we make it back to Boston?” He shuts the trunk and slides into the backseat, doing his best to leave as much respectful distance as possible between them.

“Miami International Airport, please.” She tells the driver, pointedly ignoring him and his smartass remarks, but it only makes it harder for him not to laugh again. She rolls her eyes as she settles against the seat.

The driver nods, giving Harper a polite smile in the rearview as he pulls away from the Celestial. She rolls the window down a crack, the Florida humidity at odds with the blasting A/C, but the rushing of the wind feels good to them both all the same. It clears their minds, like wiping their system’s clean of whatever spell came over them in the hotel.

Her knee brushes his, but neither of them pull away. They could go back to normal; they would be fine.

For the first time two days, Ethan can breathe easy.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and reviews keep the author fed and happy!
> 
> Find me over on tumblr @grigori-girl!


End file.
